New Sensation
by doogy
Summary: Kyle's life has always been orderly and safe. Good grades, good family, and good friends. When Stan starts having troubles, can Kyle's world be turned upside down as well? KyleStan
1. My Focus

Here's my brand spankin' new story!! I am SO happy because my exams are officially over!! And I scored 78 out of 100 on my Spanish one, which I thought I was going to fail. Also, the Science one was so easy, I almost laughed out loud. Anyhoo, now, this one is in Kyle's POV and focuses on his day-to-day life. Of course, you can rely on me to throw in some angst and drama. Haha. So, read on and review, please! I love you all!

Disclaimer- I own nothing. South Park is Trey Parker's property and it just can't be touched.

My Focus

Kyle's POV

The bright light of the sun was shining in my eyes when I woke up and I found it to be a nice change from the usual beeping of my alarm clock. That was my cue to reach over and turn it off before it had a chance to irritate me. I hated the stupid thing. It was the worst noise in the world and it never failed to put me in a bad mood first thing. This morning, however, was different. I stretched out luxuriously, realizing I had time before I needed to get ready for school. Maybe, since it was Monday, I could start my week off properly. Maybe I could go to school with a smile …-

"KYLE! TIME TO GET UP, YOUNG MAN! YOU HAD BETTER NOT BE LATE FOR SCHOOL AGAIN!"

God damnit. It never failed. That was the second most annoying noise in the world; my Mother's voice.

Grumbling, I swung my feet out of my bed and set them down on the messy floor. I needed to clean my room, badly. Piles of clothes littered the floor and some homework was topping it all. I began my journey to the other side of the room and tripped over my backpack

"God damn!"

Pushing myself up, I could already tell this was going to be a rough day. I headed downstairs into the kitchen. It smelled like eggs and toast. Dad was reading the newspaper at the table and Mom was humming to herself and bustling about, getting Ike's school lunch ready.

"Morning, Mom, Dad."

"Morning, Son." Dad replied from behind the newspaper.

Mom came over to me, and gave me a kiss on the cheek. She had to stretch to reach me. I had finally had my growth spurt in the ninth grade and had grown to about 5'8". It wasn't tall compared to Kenny and Stan, who both reached about 5'10", but to Cartman, I was a giant. He was only about 5'3". Short and fat. I smiled at the thought of this. I could still kick his ass.

I checked my reflection in the toaster and saw a bright red lipstick mark on my cheek. When I was knew she wasn't watching I wiped it away with the palm of my hand.

"Good Morning, Booby."

I hated that nickname. She had used it since I could remember and even worse, she said it when Stan, Kenny, and worst of all, Cartman were around. Stan never made any comment about it and I suppose that's why he's my best friend. He just knows how to respect people's feelings. Kenny sometimes gave a little smirk, but Cartman really poured it on. I could hear it play in my head.

"_Oh, Booby! My precious widdle Kylie Wylie bear. Haha, you stupid Jew."_

I hated Cartman. He was such an asshole and he always ripped on my religion. I had to put up with him, though. In our group, it was Stan and I and Kenny and Cartman. If Cartman wasn't there, who'd Kenny have?

"Kyle, sit down and eat something before you go."

I wasn't hungry. I just wanted to go to school.

"Aw, Mom. I'm not really …"

I trailed off mid-sentence when she gave me the _'don't argue with me' _look. When that happened, you just knew it was better to give in. I loved Mom dearly but it was embarrassing to know that half of South Park was afraid of her. And the fact that Cartman had is own special song for her …

I sat down with a sigh and began to eat.

_I'll be at school soon._

--------------------------------------

Getting to the bus stop was nice. I was glad to see everyone. The four of us usually did something together over the weekends, but different plans had disrupted the usual course of action. It had really sucked, actually. I missed not having anyone to hang out with and I had no choice but to study Geography all weekend.

Kenny had to go visit his sick grandmother in North Park with his Mom. Stan had been sick in bed all weekend with the flu, and Cartman … well, who the hell wanted to hang out with Cartman alone?

Kenny was leaning against the bus stop sign and looking over some homework. Probably cramming for today's Geography test. Cartman's cheeks were pink from the cold and he was muttering under his breath about the cold weather. Stan looked miserable. His face was flushed and his nose was slightly red. A piece of black hair had fallen from beneath his toque and he looked to be in no rush to shove it back under.

I felt bad for him, but I pulled a five-dollar bill out of my pocket. We had talked on the phone last night for the first time all weekend.

-Flashback-

"God, Dude. My Mom's making me go to school tomorrow."

"Why don't you just tell her you still don't feel well?"

I hear Stan sniffle and hold back a cough.

"'Cause, she knows about our Geography test tomorrow. God damnit, I can barely get out of bed. I don't know what the hell is wrong with me, either."

I carefully balanced the phone on my shoulder, shifting through my Geography book. I was reading every sentence and eyeing every map, but it just wasn't sinking in.

"Didn't you go to the doctor?"

Stan sneezes and groans.

"Yeah. She said it was just a bad flu bug that's been going around. She said it would clear up in a few days but I still feel like crap."

"Don't worry, Dude! I'm sure you'll better tomorrow."

Stan laughs bitterly.

"Wanna bet money on that?"

I smile and switch the phone to my other ear.

"Sure. How's five bucks?"

"You're on, Dude."

-End of Flashback-

As I trampled through the snow, Stan looked up, managing a grin.

"You lose."

I smirk at him and hand over the five-dollar bill.

"Don't go spending it all in one place," I mimicked his Grandmother who always told him that on his birthday when she sent money.

He grinned and coughed.

"Easiest money I ever made."

Cartman looked angry and huffed. I don't think he could stand anyone being happy but himself.

"God, you two are such fags. Betting money on gay things like that doesn't make you cool."

"Shut up, Fatass." Stan snaps. He coughs into his hand and sighs as he begins shuffling around inside his coat pocket, probably for a Kleenex. He frowns when he doesn't find one and his hand drops to his side once again.

I hated to see Stan in such a bad mood. He was usually cheerful and pleasant, but today, he was cranky and seemed ready to pounce on any available victim at any available time.

Kenny, who had been quiet through this whole conversation, slammed his textbook shut and breathed out a sigh of relief. I almost forgot he was there.

"I don't think I'll fail that test today. I forgot about it, but I think I've got everything down now."

Cartman snorts.

"You better not fail. Your poor ass family will need to rely on you to earn money with a good job."

Kenny glares at him but settles his eyes on me.

"Hey, Kyle. When'd you get here? How was your weekend?"

I laugh and I can see my breath dance out in icy swirls in front of me.

"I got here, like, ten minutes ago and it was good. How was yours?"

Kenny nodded.

"Can't complain. My G-ma died, though."

I look at him and wonder how he can be so calm. Kenny was always so cool about death. I guess it was from his own acquaintance with it for so many years.

"Uh, I … I'm sorry to hear that, Kenny."

Kenny shrugs carelessly.

"We all gotta go sometime."

It's become quiet, all except for the occasional sniffle from Stan.

I don't think any of us really ever took the time to think about death. Our lives were all so sheltered when you really thought about it. I mean, we had gay teachers, crackhead classmates, bitchy girls, but none of us had really ever brushed up against death … except for Kenny, but that was different ... wasn't it?

The bus finally comes and we all clamper on through the sloppy aisles covered in snow. Kenny and Cartman take a seat, and Stan and I take the one behind it. Stan leans his head against the cool window and closes his eyes.

"Dude, I seriously don't feel good. My head is _killing _me."

Stan could be such a drama queen. I give him a pat on the shoulder and he half opens one eye, peering at me.

"Just tough it out for the test then go home."

Stan only groaned and shut his eyes even tighter. I smiled a look of pity and let him sleep until the bus rolled up to the school.

"Stan, wake up. We're at the hellhole." I grin as I say this.

I think I'm the only one who looks at school as a pleasure. Kenny, Cartman, and Stan hated it, but Cartman was the only one who did considerably horrible in every subject. I, however, never had any trouble. I was what the teachers called 'gifted'. All the teachers had always made a fuss over my abilities and to be perfectly honest, it got annoying sometimes. A lot of the kids thought I was your typical stereotype nerd. Studying all the time, never breaking any rules, getting home before curfew … and a lot of them were always shocked to find out that Cartman, Stan, Kenny and I got into the most trouble through elementary school.

Getting inside the school seemed like less of a joy today and I didn't know why. The walls seemed suffocating. I shook away the thought and opened my locker. Stan waited patiently behind me, already holding his books. I was glad we had Geography first. I just wanted to get the test over with and when I voiced these thoughts, Stan leaned up against the locker beside mine and closed his eyes.

"I just want to go home."

I laugh and shuffle through the contents of my binder.

"I know. You've said it, like, a hundred times now."

Stan shoves me lightly and grins. Despite his sickness, his blue eyes still have that same spark to them.

There was no denying he was the best looking of our group. The girls fell all over him but he didn't have the slightest interest in them. The apple of his eye was and always had been Wendy Testaburger.

Over the years, they had had more fights and breaks ups than any other couple in the school. You could never be sure if they were together. One week, Wendy would come in, eyes red and puffy and Stan would stay far away from her, pissed off and depressed. The next, they'd walk in, holding hands and laughing. As much as I wanted my best friend to be happy, I liked it best when Stan and Wendy were on the outs. That meant more time for him and I to hang out.

"Hi, Stan!" Wendy's voice broke into my thoughts and I turned around to see Stan stopping her from kissing him.

"Sorry, Wendy. I still got the flu. Trust me, you don't want it." She smiled and gave him a hug instead.

Wendy and I had never gotten along very well but we put up with each other for the sake of Stan. We were pleasant to each other, but deep down, there was a rivalry. We both knew this.

"Hello, Kyle. How was your weekend?"

I shrugged and gave a small smile.

"Not too bad. Yours?"

She clung to Stan's arm and gave a smile, too.

"It was okay."

The bell rings and the three of us walk to class together, Stan in the middle, still sniffling and listening to Wendy chatter excitedly about her weekend. I was hanging off at the side, as usual. Pretending to care about what Wendy was saying was hard, but really focusing on when Stan and I would hang out next was worse. Wendy took up a lot of his time and I know he didn't see it, but she totally had him whipped.

As we headed into the classroom, Stan and I shared a private look. It was the kind that you just wait for. The kind only best friends have. He rolled his eyes and I could tell Wendy was annoying him. I grinned slightly.

It was going to be a long day.


	2. Hard to Breathe

I'm glad I got so many reviews for the first chapter! I love you guys so much!! Well, here's the second. I got the cartilage in my ear pierced tonight and it hurts right now . It was funny. My sister took me and the guy asked me how old I was and I was like, "Uh, sixteen." (Shifty eyes) You could totally tell he didn't believe me. I'm such a bad liar. Haha. So anyways, read on!

Hard to Breathe

Kyle's POV

It had begun to snow when school let out that afternoon. Fluffy white dreams fell gracefully from the open sky and I only smiled.

This was the most peaceful time of the day for me. School was over and I was in my solitude with nothing to disturb me as I went home. I walked past Stark's Pond and was shocked to see that it was completely deserted. Not a living soul in sight. Trees decorated the edge of the pond and they looked dazzling under their dresses of snow. The silence was deafening, however.

It was sort of unusual to see it so empty. Most of the time, it was swarmed with screaming kids and their parents, deprived of quiet time. I remember the happy childhood memories I had there.

"Hey, Kyle! Wait up!"

Whirling around, I can see Stan and Kenny hurrying to catch up with me. Stan slips slightly on the icy ground and pulls Kenny down with him, squealing in surprise.

I can't help but laugh at the scene. Each time one of them tries to get up, they have a war of keeping the other one down. Kenny pushes a sad attempt for a snowball in Stan's face and immediately receives a face wash in the snow.

Kenny grins when they finally get up and stand in front of me, but Stan scowls, coughing hard into his gloved hand. It appears that only Kenny was having fun.

"Smooth, you guys. Real smooth." I laugh.

Kenny loosens the drawstrings on his hood and I can see his blue eyes twinkle mischievously. He blows his blond bangs out of his eyes.

"It was pretty graceful for Mr. Smooth, here." Kenny chuckled, jerking his thumb out in Stan's direction.

I grinned at Kenny's comment and promptly received a glare from my best friend.

"So, what's the hurry? Why are you guys walking this way? Stan, I thought you had football practice …?"

Stan shook his head.

"Fuck no. There is no way, come hell or high water that I am playing in this freezing weather when I already feel like shit. Coach won't care if I skip for one day."

He rubbed his hands together and hopped from foot to foot, trying to keep warm.

"Kenny and I were thinking we'd come over to your house and play videogames or something. Whataya say?

I would've liked to just go home and finish my homework in peace, but Stan's eyes were too much. I hated the intensity I seemed to drown in every time I looked at him. So instead, I nodded.

"Sure, come on."

The three of us walked on down the street. In Kenny and Stan's eyes, Stark's Pond went unnoticed. In my eyes, I silently vowed I would visit my old childhood friend again.

----------------------------

Later that night, long after Stan and Kenny had left, I wandered up the stairs, excusing myself from the table after I ate.

My room was dark and eerie. Only the light from the stars and streetlights outside came through. I flicked on my light and headed over to my desk. I sat in the chair for a long time, spinning absentmindedly around, wondering what I should do.

Now, I know I _should_ be doing homework, but I just couldn't focus. My mind was preoccupied and what was really driving me nuts was the fact that I didn't now what it was preoccupied with. It was like there was a secret memory at the back of my mind begging to be told.

Sighing heavily, I extended my arm down and flicked on my computer. I hardly ever went on unless I needed to type up a paper for school, but hey, it was good for a few laughs every now and then. Aside from that, I wanted to write Stan an email.

The screen came to life and I watched as the desktop loaded.

Every kid at school had the same chat service. I know that Cartman and Stan used it a lot. I had toyed around with it a few times but I found it stupid. All the conversations were small talk and if you started bad mouthing someone to another person, they could easily copy and paste.

I avoided going on, even if it meant being able to talk to Stan. It was too informal. Instead, I opened up my email and proceeded to write to Stan. Him and I exchanged emails every once in awhile and he didn't know it, but I saved every email I had ever gotten from him. When him and Wendy were together and I felt tossed aside, I would just read them. It gave me some reassurance but made me long for him even more.

Deep down, I had known I liked Stan as more than a friend. I probably first found out in the ninth grade. I could remember the exact moment I felt my heart pounce at the sight of him.

-Flash back-

The whole gym class had been forced to do 10 laps around the gym after Cartman kept talking when the teacher was giving out instructions.

"God dammit, Fat boy. What part of 'shut the hell up' did you not understand?!" I complained watching Stan as he took the lead of the entire gym class.

I trotted behind, panting and trying to keep up with his pace.

"Aye! I'm not fat. Jesus Christ, and that bitch is probably just on her period."

Stan rolled his eyes and shot me a grin.

"Sure, Cartman. Just keep telling yourself that. 10 laps isn't too bad anyways. The coach makes us do more when it's warm out. Now that blows!"

I snorted.

"Easy for you to say, Stan. This comes from Mr. Jock himself."

He laughed.

"I can't help that I was gifted with athletic skills … which, by the way, can't be said for Fatass."

Cartman wheezed.

"Shut up, you fag!"

Kenny trailed behind, laughing. All his years of smoking were catching up to him.

By the time we had all completed the laps gym was over. We all headed into the boys shower room, laughing and discussing our plans for the upcoming weekend.

"I think we should all go see that new movie that just came out … you know, the one with Jennifer Lopez. I think it was called Gigli." Stan mused, peeling off his sweaty gym clothes.

"Aw, dude! No way! I heard that movie sucked ass. Plus, I hate that stupid bitch." Cartman groaned, throwing his shirt and shorts to the floor.

I didn't pay attention to this conversation. I just didn't understand. I was so focused on watching Stan undress himself and step into the shower. There were stalls that separated each one, but I couldn't keep my eyes from trailing.

He groaned slightly as he stepped under the hot water and closed his eyes, leaning his face into it.

"God, I love showers after a workout like that."

Cartman flicked water over the stall at him.

"That sounded really faggy, you whore."

Stan gave him a slight glare, not really being serious.

"So, what do you want to do, Kyle?"

I shook my head, red curls scattering across my forehead, curtaining my eyes.

"Huh?"

Stan laughed, water dripping onto his face from his dark bangs.

"Earth to Kyle. I was asking if you wanted to see that Jennifer Lopez flick."

I actually couldn't have cared less but I nodded and tried to hide the blush that was creeping up my face. Christ, what was wrong with me?

Stan shut off the tap to his shower and stepped out, wrapping a towel around his waist as he went. I shut mine off, too and followed.

"Man, we've got friggin' Math after this."

I didn't mind Math, but I watched as he pulled his boxers on, his back to me. He pulled his shirt over his head and ran his hands through his damp hair. It was messy and various pieces stuck out everywhere. It looked good.

"Uh, yeah. Math's okay, though."

Stan grinned and gave me a slight shove as he sat down beside me on the bench, pulling his pants on in the process.

"You should tutor me one of these days. My parents will flip if I fail again."

I managed another nod and tried hard to ignore the feeling in my stomach. I had butterflies. I, Kyle Broflovski, had **butterflies**.

How odd. How very strange.

Stan seemed less like my best friend and more like eye candy to me.

What was happening? I never acted this way. I wasn't a fag. Why was I suddenly trying to sneak a peak at Stan in his underwear?

-End of Flashback-

I feel that familiar blush creeping into my cheeks as I remember that day. It had been so strange. What provoked it? I didn't think I'd ever know.

I turned off the computer, suddenly too distracted to write the email. My face burned and I pressed my palms against my cheeks, trying to cool them down.

"Might as well finish my homework." I muttered.

Halfway through an English composition, the phone rang, startling me and sending papers scattering off my desk and onto the floor.

Cursing, I bent down and retrieved them all before I picked up the phone.

"Hello?" I said less than friendly. I hated being broken out of my thoughts like that.

"K-kyle?"

I switched the phone to my left ear. I could hear better out of it.

"Yeah. It's me. Stan?"

I heard him hold back a sob.

"Y-ye-yeah. It's me. Can I come over? Please?"

I froze. I hadn't seen or heard Stan cry since we were young. This didn't sound too good.

"Are you okay, dude?"

"Can I p-please just come over?"

My heart skipped a beat and I felt a little guilty. I was so happy Stan was coming over that I had forgotten he was upset and something was wrong.

"Uh, yeah. Sure, Dude. Come on over."

I eyed the clock.

_6:47pm_

Since it wasn't all that late, I don't think Mom would mind Stan coming over. She loved him like he was her own. I'd just tell her he needed a lot of help on his homework and it couldn't be done over the phone, but I wondered deeply what was wrong with Stan.

I had never heard him like that. His voice sounded dragged down and heavy. Not to mention the fact that he was obviously crying. It scared me. Stan hardly ever cried. He was tough and usually the most well rounded of our friends.

I watched out my window. It was dark and the streetlights brightened up the sidewalks so much that it left little to the imagination. A lady jogged by holding a leash and a golden lab trotted alongside her. I never understood those people. Who the hell jogged at night in the winter?

I trailed over to my bed and I flopped down on it. I was agitated. I wanted, **_needed_**, to know what was wrong with Stan.

I couldn't stand waiting. I was probably one of the most impatient people ever. Most importantly, when Stan was unhappy, I was unhappy.

I peered outside at the tall figure slouching towards the front of the house. I didn't move though.

I watched, dazed, as Stanley Marsh came up my driveway.


	3. Don't Cry

Here's the third chappy! I love you guys! I LOVE all the great feedback I'm getting! I'm thinking this story will be either shorter or longer than _From the Depth of my Soul, _depending on what I may throw in. Soooo, keep reading and I promise mucho excitement! Also, Stan's first (being the operative word here) problem in this chapter may not be very big, but it'll get better. Trust me. Rome wasn't built in a day, after all!

Don't Cry

Kyle's POV

I could hear the doorbell ring, footsteps, most likely my Mother's, walking over to it and then Stan's voice. I hopped down from where I had been sitting near the windowsill and rushed over to the door quietly. Pressing my ear against it, I could hear:

"Hello, Mrs. Broflovski. Um, is Kyle here?"

"Why, yes. He is, Stanley. Are you alright?"

I heard muffled talking and then footsteps trampling up the stairs and the bedroom door swung open. I flew back and was shocked at what I saw.

If Stan has ever looked truly miserable in his life, this was the time.

His eyes were red and swollen, his face pale and flushed, and he wasn't wearing his trademark toque. His hair was messy and wet from walking out in the snowfall. You could tell he was gulping back more tears.

"Dude! What happened? Are you alright?"

Stan pushed in, closing the door behind him. He looked so small and frail. I was afraid to show any contact.

"Stan, you're scaring me. Here, sit down. Tell me what's wrong, okay?"

He nodded and fell onto my bed pulling Mr. Bear, the teddy from my childhood, off the pillow and dropping it to the floor. I had never been able to bring myself togetting rid of that bear and Cartman still teased me about it. His fur was matted and worn from years of being cuddled and one of his beaded black eyes was missing; a button sewn on by Mom had replaced it. I still loved him to tears, however.

"Oh, god, Kyle. M-my …"

I handed him a Kleenex and waited for him to blow his nose.

"My Grandma died."

I couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. I thought something had happened to _him._ My heart still sunk to see him cry.

Stan and his Grandma had always been close. She always told him that he was her favorite grandchild. He always acted like it wasn't a big deal, but deep down; we all knew that he was ecstatic to have that honor.

I think he liked being her favorite because all his cousins were high achievers in school. They ranked top in their classes and were on the honor roll. It wasn't that he was bad in school, but Stan was star quarterback and the most athletic, and it just didn't receive the same kind of attention. I knew how hard he wanted to feel accepted by his entire family.

"Damn, Dude. I'm so sorry."

I sat down on the edge of the bed and melted into the warmth radiating off his body. He wiped his nose with the Kleenex, now torn up. I handed him a new one.

"God, I just can't believe I'll never see her again. I didn't even g-get a chance to say g-goodbye."

He broke down in tears once again. A sudden surge of bravery flowed through my veins. I took a deep breath and rested my hand on his leg, partly above his knee, close to his thigh.

I was half expecting him to flip out, ask what the hell I was doing, and then leave. However, my hand went unnoticed and he curled his knees up to his chest, letting it continue to rest on his thigh. Then came the biggest shock of my life.

He gently curled his fingers around mine and tucked our linked hands under his chin. His hand felt so cold and I saw him shiver, his teeth chattering. I had forgotten he still had the flu.

"I think my fever's coming back."

I pulled the covers out beneath him, signaling for him to get under. He did, but didn't let go of my grip. I put the hand that wasn't holding onto his upon his forehead. It felt clammy and his hair was damp. He was burning up.

"You're really warm, Stan. I'm going to go downstairs and find you some medicine, okay?"

He nodded, his expression tired and sleep overcoming him, but his grip didn't loosen. He was still shuddering from crying earlier and sniffling.

"I'll be right back. I promise."

He did let go this time, but I felt his eyes on me the entire time as I left the room.

I hurried down the stairs, almost tripping over Ike at the bottom.

"Shit! Ike, don't play with your toys there. Somebody's going to get hurt and it'll be you if you don't clear out. You're not too old to play 'kick the baby'!"

He ignored me so I threw my hands up frustrated. I had more important things to worry about right now anyways. Little brother issues could wait.

I entered the kitchen, and began digging around in the cupboards, looking for something to ease Stan's pain.

"Booby, what are you looking for?"

I whirled around to see my Mother staring at me, waiting for an answer. I had to be careful of what I was saying. Mom liked to get involved as much as she could.

"Uh, Stan's got the flu and he's not feeling too good. Do we have anything we can give him?"

A look of concern flashed over her features.

"Does his Mother know he's here? Is he okay? He wasn't looking too good when he came in."

I held my hands up in defense.

"Mom, Mom! He's okay. He just needs a Tylenol or something. Do we have any?"

She crossed over to the stove and reached to the cupboard above it. She pulled out a bottle of Advil. Shaking two into her hand, she turned on the kitchen tap.

"Get a glass for me, would you, Booby?"

I obeyed and handed it to her. She waited a few seconds, tested the running water with her index finger and filled the glass when the temperature reached her satisfaction. She handed me both the glass and the pills.

"Take these up to him. They should do the trick. You've got school tomorrow, Booby. I don't want you two visiting for too long. If they don't help, I want to see him. Got it?"

I nodded with relief. I hated it when she made a big deal out of everything.

Ike had taken my earlier warning and cleared out of the way as soon as I came into sight. I nudged him with my foot as I passed and he stuck his tongue out at me. We both grinned after and I continued up the stairs.

I shoved open my door using my shoulder, seeing as my hands were both holding something. I could feel Stan's energy lingering in the air and it gave me the jitters. Everything about him did.

He was still curled up, hugging Mr. Bear to his chest. His breathing was struggled from his stuffed up nose and his eyes were closed. Dark lashes lay still around his eyes and a look of peace was painted in his handsome features. It took me a minute to realize he was asleep.

I didn't know if I should wake him or not. The medicine would probably help in the long run, but sleep always did miraculous wonders.

After a few moments of thinking about and admiring Stan, I decided to let him sleep for a little bit and when I woke him up, I'd give him the Advil.

I took my place in my desk chair again, putting the water and pills down beside the mouse pad. The room was quiet except for the soft snoring from Stan.

I sighed and proceeded to finish my English assignment. Through this whole ordeal, it had been sort of sidetracked. I would've felt guilty if it hadn't been for Stan.

He took over my mind and all my thoughts were reserved just for him. He was the type of person I had spent so many sleepless nights thinking about and just for the very fact that he was amazing. Ab-so-lu-te-ly _amazing_. He was a beautiful person. Inside and out. He had a big heart and a great head on his shoulders. He came from a great family. He'd travel across the world for you. Who wouldn't want a friend like that? But I wasn't satisfied with his friendship alone. I wanted _him. _I wanted to have him in the grasp that Wendy possessed.

All he needed was reassurance. Somebody there to tell him things would work out in the end. Amazing. He had stolen my heart and he didn't even know it.

I spent the next hour finishing my homework. Normally, I wouldn't have minded doing it, but when a vulnerable Stan was lying asleep on my bed, I just couldn't focus. If this had been under _normal_ circumstances, I would've been done in half an hour considering we didn't have all that much.

I leaned back in my chair, stretching my arms above me and yawning. I pushed my fingers together, cracking them.

"How long have I been asleep for?"

I jumped slightly and turned around to see Stan sitting up against the headboard. His hair was messy and he looked positively adorable … with the exception of his puffy eyes. Still ….

I found my voice.

"Not long. Maybe an hour."

He nodded and yawned.

"I didn't mean to fall asleep, Kyle. Sorry."

I got up and handed him the water and pills. He stared at them blankly.

"It's alright. Take these. They'll make you feel better."

He leaned forward reaching for them with no questions and swallowed both with a swig of water. He handed the glass back to me, closed his eyes and leaned back against the headboard.

"You okay, Stan?"

He opened them again and smiled weakly, the tears gathering again.

"I guess. It's …Just; I can't believe she's gone, Dude. I mean, I'll never see her again. It's killing me. Can you imagine? Never seeing someone you care so much about ever again? Sometimes, I felt like she was the only person who truly saw me for who I am. Not how good I did in school. Just … me."

I couldn't help but feel a little rejected. If only he knew how I saw him. I _understood_ him. Now wasn't the time to bring it up, though.

"I know, Stan. It's okay. She was so proud of you and you should just cherish the precious memories you have of her. She was lucky to have a grandson as nice and kind-hearted as you."

He looked up, surprised.

"You really mean that?"

I nodded and kneeled down beside the bed.

"Of course, Dude. I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it. You're my best friend. I only pick the very best for that honor." I joked.

He cracked a small smile.

"Thanks, Kyle. That means a lot to me. Really."

I smiled gently and took his hand once again.

"You mean a lot to me."

He squeezed back on my hand and I don't think he really realized what I meant. It didn't matter though. Not now, anyways. In his mind, we were just friends sharing a tender moment. In mine, my heart was soaring and it felt wonderful to hold Stan's hand. To have him all to myself even if it was only for an hour was all I could ask for.

Stan was getting uncomfortable because he reluctantly let go of my hand and threw back the covers.

"Look, Dude. My Mom will flip if I'm not home soon. She understood that I wanted to talk to somebody who wasn't related to Grandma. Everyone at my house was in tears when I left. I better get back."

I nod and try to restrain myself from flinging against him and refusing to let him go.

"Sure, Stan. I understand. It's no biggie. I'll see you tomorrow, kay?"

He nods.

"Thanks for being there for me, Kyle. I can always count on you."

He gets up and I follow him to the bedroom door.

"I'll see you at school tomorrow, then. Thanks for the medicine and letting me crash in your bed." He says the last part with a grin and I can't help but feel myself being pulled in again.

"Yup. No problem. I hope you feel better, Dude. Tell your family I'm sorry."

He nods and looks at me sort of strangely for a moment. Then, he pulls me into an awkward hug. I take in his scent and sort of nuzzle my head into his shoulder.

"Bye, Stan."

He pulls back and smiles.

"Bye, Kyle."

He waves and wanders out, leaving me standing in the doorwayand dazed. I hear him say goodbye to my Mother and Ike. The front door slams softly and I run back into my room and to my window, hoping to catch one last glimpse of him.

He's amazing and I cry because it hurts to know he doesn't think of me in the same way.


	4. Linger

Well, here's the fourth. I haven't got much to say except this will all build up … believe me!! I got a flash of inspiration, while in downtown with two of my good buddies today. We were riding the C-train and it was completely silent. It'll totally help and I'm psyched to start writing! So, this chapter is going to be a bit darker. Also, I have decided that once I get at least 10 reviews for each chapter, I'll update. SO REVIEW LIKE MAD!! Read on!

Linger

Kyle's POV

I didn't sleep well that night. The scent of Stan was turned down in the bed sheets and it drove me insane every time my eyes closed. It was like being taunted with something you couldn't have. Kind of like when you're starving and you get a whiff of hamburgers from some fast-food joint, but you haven't got any money. Aside from that, I couldn't lie still when I thought about how his body had been lying where I was just a few hours earlier.

_I'm standing on a subway. We don't have subways in South Park. It's crowded with little air to breathe. All the seats are occupied and I'm standing up. The people all around me are suspicious-looking and show no trust in their unkind eyes._

_I smell cigarettes and burning flesh. It's enough to make me close my eyes and flinch and when I open them again, Wendy and Stan are right beside me, mixed in the crowd. They're kissing. Wendy's eyes are closed and a smile is playing upon her lips. Her arms are entwined around Stan's neck and she's wearing an ID bracelet. Stan's ID bracelet. Stan is holding her around her small waist. The world around them is nothing but a movie and my heart's breaking. It hurts. God, it fucking hurts._

_Cartman is grinning, taunting me. Kenny watches me with slow, steady eyes. It's almost sensual. Stan turns away from Wendy and she's frozen there, her lips pursed out as if she's still attached to his. He's watching to see if I'm looking and when he sees what he wants, he turns back to Wendy, groping her shamelessly._

**_Stop it, Stan! Just, fucking stop!_**

_The subway suddenly goes dark and my ears are filled with a metallic whirring, yet, the world feels silent. The train shakes violently for a few seconds, slivers of light weaving in and out of the train car, and I can see again._

_Bodies all around me. They're dead. Everyone's dead. The rancid smell of blood is filling my nostrils. I'm standing amongst the corpses, piled up. When I look down, I can see Stan on the ground, blood pouring out of his head, a grim smile fucking with his face. His sterling silver ID bracelet is Mother gave him for his birthday last year is on the floor, missing the clasp. Wendy is lying on top of him, her arms dramatically thrown about. Cartman is lying face down in a puddle of blood and Kenny is still standing there, watching me. He has a bullet hole in the middle of his forehead._

_I'm holding the gun._

My eyes fly open and when they do, my alarm is ringing and I'm screaming. I felt like I hadn't slept at all, and the little rest I did have had been tainted with horrifying images. I still pushed myself out of bed, shaking away my exhaustion and the faint traces of my nightmare.

"KYLE! TIME TO GET UP!"

"Coming …" I muttered, pulling on some jeans I had found lying on the floor. I didn't really care to shower. Water and soap couldn't get rid of the dirtiness of my dream.

I finished dressing and trailed downstairs, hunched over slightly. Mom tapped me slightly on the back.

"Straighten up, Kyle."

I nodded and took my place at the table, too tired to even argue about eating breakfast. I was a robot. Anybody could control me and there was nothing I could do about it.

Dad glanced at me over his paper and I thought I saw him look at Mom but I couldn't be sure.

I walked to school in a daze, hoping that the high council of fate would take pity on me. Maybe Stan and Wendy would be on the outs today. I wouldn't mind hanging out with Stan, even if he were depressed and mourning over his Grandmother's death.

It was warmer out than yesterday and the sun was peaking through the clouds. The remainder of the snow from yesterday had turned to a sloppy wet slush that soaked the bottoms of my jeans, making them look darker.

_The aftermath of a snowfall_, I thought with a small grin.

I continued my way to the bus stop and saw only Kenny and Stan. Kenny was smoking a cigarette, his hood back for once showing his dirty blonde hair, and Stan looked a lot better than he had yesterday. His toque was on properly but he showed off an expression of grief. Memory of the nightmare flash through my head. The bullet hole in Kenny's head …

"Hey, Dudes."

"Hey, Kyle." Kenny chirped giving off a toothy grin.

Given the fact that Kenny came from a dirty, poor family, he was still probably the most charming male you could ever meet. He could make any female swoon.

"Hey." Stan said quietly. Kenny gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder.

"Keep your head up, Buddy."

Stan only sighed sadly and looked down at his shoes. It was breaking my heart.

"So, what's up with Mr.Broflovski?"

I stood beside Stan and shifted my backpack to my other shoulder.

"Nothing at all. Hey, where the hell's Fatass?"

Stan didn't respond at all, but Kenny shrugged with a slight grin.

"His Mom said he was sick. Probably the same flu Stan has."

I forced a laugh.

"Hey, Stan, maybe you gave it to him!"

Stan looked close to tears again.

"What use am I? I can't do anything right. Everything's my fault."

Kenny and I exchanged worried expressions and then he wrapped an arm around Stan's shoulders, pulling him into a one-armed hug sort of thing.

"Don't say that, Man. You've got a lot of use and you can do a lot of things right. It wasn't your fault that your Grandma died. These things just happen. I mean, hey," He grinned again. "Look at me! Mine died a few days ago and I'm still hanging in strong. You'll pull through, Stan."

I wrapped my arm around Stan's other shoulder.

"Kenny's right, Stan. It's not your fault. Don't be so hard on yourself."

Stan let a few more silent tears fall before he wiped them away on his sleeve. He looked up with delicate sadly fringed eyes.

"Thanks, guys. Really, thanks."

Kenny only winked at me over Stan's shoulder. He had crow's feet at the age of fifteen and his eyes crinkled up when he smiled. He really was a good guy underneath that perverted surface.

As the bus came into sight, Stan took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down before he got on. He'd never say, but I knew he wanted it to seem like everything was okay. It was normal. If something was wrong, you don't want the whole world to know and sometimes pretending everything is okay is the best thing to do. A normal human need; normality.

The ride to school was quiet. I sat beside Stan and Kenny was stuck sitting beside Bebe. He groaned and turning to us, shoved a finger down his throat in mocking disgust. Unfortunately, Bebe saw and she slapped him.

"Asshole!"

Kenny mimicked her and Stan's laughter was music to my ears.

The bus ride is relatively tame for once and at one point, Stan's hand and mine brush along. He looks up and smiles at me. His blue eyes sad, he leans into me slightly. You couldn't tell if you had been an observer, but I could feel Stan's shoulder pressed snugly into mine. It's enough to make me blush.

Between us, our jackets covering any evidence, his fingers sought out mine and to everyone else, we're just two friends sitting in calming peace. But we both know that we're two best friends holding hands. And no one needs to know. It's literally between us.

It's the same routine at school. I go to my locker and Stan waits behind. Today, he's completely silent. He's staring at his feet, shuffling his books uncomfortably around in his arms. I suddenly feel a slight pang of anger towards him … for what he did to me in my dream.

"Hey, um, Stan …" I begin.

He looks up waiting for me to continue.

"I-I need to tell …you, uh, something." I clear my throat.

"HEY, STAN!" Wendy's high-pitched voice grips my voice and throws it out the window.

I sigh irritably and little louder than I meant to, for Stan throws me a quick apologetic look.

A flash of long, black hair and she cozies up to him, purring in his ear. He gives her a flirty smile and it's enough to make me sick. Just, because it's not me at his side. All the emotions from my dream are crashing through my head. I clench my fists tightly at my side.

_I hate you, Wendy._

"Stan, I heard about your Grandma. I'm so sorry, Baby."

His grief-stricken expression returns and I want to fucking kill Wendy for reminding him. I think I'm the only one who notices him throw back his shoulders slightly.

"Uh, thanks, Wendy."

She cuddles up to him, nuzzling the top of her head under his chin and her hand reaches up and strokes his hair gently.

A flash of silver on her wrist makes me look twice. I wish I hadn't, though.

_She's wearing Stan's ID bracelet._

Deep down, I always knew they were a couple. The real deal. But, her wearing his bracelet made it too official. It shattered all my hopes and brought tears into my eyes.

_Just like in my dream._

I stand there, shocked and hurt. I turn away quickly and run down the hall and out the doors, leaving my locker wide open … the exact same as Stan's mouth.

I run pass kids smoking and playing hackey-sack outside before school starts. They're all a colorful blur behind my tears. I ignore them and continue down the street. I don't stop until I reach the streetlight.

"Kyle!"

Oh no.

"Kyle! What the hell are you doing? What's wrong with you?!" Stan stops breathlessly beside me, grabbing onto my elbow gently and turning me to face him.

I pull away angrily.

"Don't **fucking** touch me, Stan!"

Why am I so angry? Who was he to send me all these signals and then give his ID bracelet to Wendy?

Stan stares at me, wide-eyed and confused. He lowers his head and shakes it slightly, then looks back up at me.

"How … what the hell is wrong with you?" He hisses.

What was wrong with me? I'd be the last to know, that was for sure.

I'm sobbing and his face is a palate of blotched colors. I feel him pull me into a hug. It's more relaxed than the one we shared the previous night and I melt into it without even meaning to. His front is soft and safe and his body smells like soap and cologne.

"Kyle, you need to tell me what's wrong. Please?"

I cry for a few more seconds, helpless and heartbroken. I don't care that passing cars can see us. Two teenage boys hugging, one crying, the other pleading.

I look up at him and manage a small smile.

"Stan, you're really fucked up. You know that?"

He stares at me for a minute and pushes my head back into his shoulder, hushing me up and rocking me gently.

I look back up at him after a few seconds. Insane green eyes holding worried blue eyes. The traffic has slowed down and no cars are passing. The world is silent … just like in my dream.

Off in the distance, I can hear the first bell ring, and I reach up and press my lips onto Stan's.

He doesn't pull back.


	5. Edge

Nothing' much to say. Except, I just watched the Critter Christmas episode! Haha! That was funny. "Except for Kyle. He died of Aids two weeks later. GOD DAMMIT, CARTMAN!" HAHA. Er … Just read …

_"I've got a big, fat, fuckin' bone to pick with you, my darling. In case you haven't heard, I'm sick and tired of trying. I wish you would take my radio to bathe with you, plugged in and ready to fall." – Alkaline Trio_

Edge

Kyle's POV

School sucks ass all day. Nothing holds my interest for long and by last period of the day, I'm sitting in English doodling sadly on the back of my notebook. I'm moping, but I don't care.

I had totally fucked things up with Stan. He got a little freaked out after we kissed, making up some bullshit excuse that he didn't want to miss school. Stan would fight world war three if it meant no school. I hated how he ran down the street, leaving me there, upset and heartbroken. He sent me all the wrong signals, but he still has the balls to hug me. And then he fucking throws all hopes out the window.

I hate him. I fucking hate him.

But I love him more than …

"Mr._Broflovski_!"

My head snaps up in surprise and I feel my cheeks turning red as my classmates' laughter erupts around me.

"You can daydream about your girlfriend, or _whatever_ has your mind so occupied, later! Pay attention!"

I want to shoot the teacher for embarrassing me, but I can't help but wish it were a girl who had my mind so occupied.

The teacher launches back into whatever the hell she was talking about, secretly watching me the whole time to see if I'm listening. I bow my head low to the desk and watch as the drawing I created is smudged with my tears.

But I can still see the redheaded boy holding the raven-haired boy so closely, defending him from all harm.

I walk home in a daze, sobbing freely once I'm away from all signs of life. My tears feel frozen on my face and snowflakes are falling onto my head. I want to wipe away the salty drops on my cheeks, but I keep hoping that Stan will come along and see how he makes me feel. I want him to see what he's done. He's totally with my head and feelings and I wonder if this is how any girl must feel when a guy dumps her.

I pass Stark's Pond and automatically u-turn back to it. I'm still sobbing and the wind whips painfully around my head.

I sit myself down on the bench, wrapping my arms tightly my chest. I cough dryly, my nose running. I'm shaking from both the cold and my tears. My vision is blurring from the tears and the pond in front of me is nothing more than a mass of colour.

"Christ, Stan. Why'd you have to do this to me? Why?! I-I …" I look at the sky, the snowflakes hitting me dead on in the face.

I'm suddenly so angry. I'm angry at Stan, at myself, at the world …

"FUCK YOU, STAN! I HATE YOU!" I'm screaming and my words are echoing all around me but I don't give a shit. I just don't care …

I'm shuddering and I bury my face in my hands, crying my heart out.

"Don't cry, Kyle."

I almost jump 3 feet in the air and I turn around to find Kenny staring at me with sympathy. His eyes are wide and incredibly blue. He looks ready to cry himself. He arches a leg over the bench and straddles it, watching me with that same steady look.

"It's okay. I know what happened between you and Stan. I saw it all. I'm so sorry."

I stare at him in awe. He was watching us? The little sneak.

"You were spying on us?"

Kenny shakes his head sadly.

"I saw you run out and I thought maybe something happened between you and Stan. I wanted to see if there was anything I could do and then I saw you kiss him. I saw how he pulled away and backed off. Kyle, I know what he's doing. It's not fair to you and I'm _so _sorry."

I sob harder and throw my arms around Kenny's neck. Kenny got it. He understood and he was the only comfort I had.

He pulls me into him, gliding his hands on my back, letting me soak his jacket in tears. He smells so good and it's then that I realize I didn't want to shoot Kenny in my dream. I just wanted someone to feel my pain and understand it.

I'm so vulnerable and I hate it. I hate knowing that Kenny could take total advantage of me right now. I hate how I know he wants to kiss me. But Kenny won't. He's respectful and he's people-smart; something you can't learn. You've either got it or you don't.

He lets me cry for a few more minutes, helps me up and walks me home. I'm so exhausted that I let him guide me with gentle hands and caring gestures.

"It's cool that you cry, Kyle."

I look at him shocked.

"Do you get some sick pleasure from it?"

He shakes his head, his blond hair flopping in front of his eyes.

"Not many guys can do that. A lot of them are too proud. Crying helps and it's cool that you don't bottle up your emotions."

It's hard to believe this was coming from the perverted creep I had known my whole life. The guy who set things on fire for the hell of it, smoked and drank, and was always dying and coming back … screwing around with fate. _Tempting_ it.

"Thanks, Kenny." I say quietly.

He nods, embarrassed. His hood is down for once but his hair is so long that it covers his eyes. I put an arm around his thin shoulders and we continue walking down my street, the snow still falling all around us.

-------------------------------------------

It's late that night and I'm sprawled out on my bed, reading Spiderman comics. I hadn't read them since I was 12 years old, but I was desperate for a distraction.

I knew Stan didn't mean to hurt me, but I wish he hadn't run. I wish I didn't kiss him. I wish my eyes weren't so puffy. I had been forced to search through Mom's cosmetics until I found some under eye cover-up that would get rid of the puffiness. I was truly finding my inner-homo and that scared me because the more I discovered, the more I realized how comfortable I was with it all.

I turned over on my back, abandoning my comic on the floor. Staring at the ceiling, my thoughts trailed back to Stan.

I wanted so badly to pick up the phone and call him. I wanted to hear his voice. I wanted to tell him how much I hated him, but, also how much I loved him at the same time.

I finally leave my room, heading for the kitchen. I was thirsty and bored. It's dark when I get in there and strips of light shed across the tiled floor. It's quiet and still. Peaceful; I love it. I can see how late it really is by the tiny digital clock on the stove.

I open the fridge, taking out the filtered container of water. The light from inside hurts my eyes seeing as they had been reading by a dim lamp. I rub them and walk towards the cupboard, tapping the fridge closed with my foot as I go.

Settling myself down in one of the kitchen chairs, I tap my left hand repeatedly on the tabletop, sipping my water with the right. It hurts to swallow and I automatically assume it's from all the crying. My throat felt so dry and sore. I hoped to God I wasn't coming down with the flu. But, it would save me from having to deal with Stan at school. I'd have to eventually, anyways …

The phone ringing broke my thoughts.

A bit startled, I raced over to it, making sure to not cause any unneeded noise that would wake up my parents. Also, they'd freak if they knew someone was calling this late. It was after midnight, for God's sake. I wondered how the phone didn't wake them up already. Ike must've set the ringer to _high_, again.

I looked down at the ringing phone and checked caller ID. It was the number I had known my whole life. The one I dialed almost everyday.

_**Randy Marsh.**_

The hell? That meant it was Stan. Why was he calling? Was he calling to apologize? My heart flip-flopped and I pick up the phone after the second ring.

"H-hello?" My voice cracked under pressure and all I received on the other end was a soft click and the dial tone filled my ears.

I placed the phone down softly, confusion etched into my face. Why the fuck would Stan call just to hang up on me? And it was so late …

Maybe he was calling to apologize, but he chickened out at last minute and hung up. It was possible, but it felt like there was something more than that to it. God damnit. I would never know. It's killing me.

Frustrated, I slammed my empty glass down in the sink so hard I was almost scared that it would shatter.

I stomped back up the stairs and into my room, slamming the door as hard as I could without taking the risk of waking anybody up.

I'm so fidgety and restless. I've also noticed that I'm cracking my knuckles like I did when I was ten. I need something, anything, to get my mind off Stan. Going for a walk might not hurt but it's so late. Mom will kill me if she finds me sneaking out. I need to get out of this house though. I need to get into the fresh air.

I slowly push open my window, pleading with it under my breath to keep quiet and not creak. Once it's safely open enough for me to fit through, I climb up on my desk and sling my legs out first, grabbing onto the drainpipe outside for support. I inch myself out and shimmy down the drainpipe, catching my sleeve on the corner of the window and ripping it.

"Shit." I breathe.

Mom would kill me when she saw it. It gave me such a thrill to be doing something so disobedient for once. I felt the tingle of excitement from my toes to my head.

I dropped with a soft thud to the ground, landing on one knee and smudging it with the mud from the ground. I picked myself up, swiping once over for any caught leaves on my coat.

The moon was bright and full and the starless sky was brightened up by it. The mountains, acting like a backdrop, shadowed the houses and made them seem relatively insignificant.

On the top, I felt like the houses. Small and always in the shadows. Deep down, I knew I could be like the mountains. I could make people notice me and respect my feelings. I couldn't let Stan do this to me. He wasn't going to get away with hurting me like this, again.

I walk along the sidewalk, hands in my pockets, and quietly whistling an unrecognizable tune. It was a perfect night. The kind of night where lovers would take walks and hold hands under the night sky.

-Flash back-

He pulls back after a few seconds and leaves his taste lingering on my lips and making me long for more.

"Stan? What's wrong?"

He pulls back, blushing and looking like a small, cornered animal. It feels good to know that I'm the one who is affecting him like this.

"Um …hey, uh. Maybe, we should go into school. I don't want to miss it."

I glower at him suspiciously. He turns away, looking down, up, everywhere but my face.

"You don't usually seem to care that much, Stan."

He shakes his head, looking more flustered than before. He's watching his feet and avoiding my eyes. He's still got bags under his eyes and they're rimmed with red so slightly, you have to be really close to him to tell.

"Look, Dude. Let's just go in. This is getting weird."

He turns around before I can protest and takes off in the direction of the school. I watch him disappear around the fence.

"Weird, huh?" I ask the cloudy sky. "You don't know how weird this is going to get, Stan."

I follow the footprints he's made in the snow and make myself believe that I don't really want to cry over him. But I still do anyways.

-End of Flashback-

I bend down and scoop up a handful of pure snow. I pack it tightly into a slight deformed snowball and chuck it at the side of a house, running before I see it hit.

I run maybe 20 feet and I have to stop because I'm panting for air. My lungs have been filled with sweet icy breath and I exhale slowly, letting it last.

Behind me, I can hear Stan. His footsteps echo in my ears and make me loathe him even more.

"Kyle! Hey, Kyle!"

He's getting closer and I suddenly wonder if he followed me.

"Kyleeeeeeee!" His voice sounds raspy and strangely croaky, like he's just woken up after a long sleep.

I turn around ready to face my destiny.


	6. Stan's Confession

Here's the sixth! Oh goodness. Today was the start of the new semester. I am really regretting going into grade 11 Biology… I'm getting a lot of dirty looks for being one of the only grade 10's! Ahhhh! Haha. So, anyways, I'm not sure how much homework I'm going to be getting so I'll be trying to update just as much as I can. Read on and as always, reviews are appreciated.

Also, this chapter will be slightly shorter than the rest. But it'll be worth it, I assure you.

Stan's Confession

Kyle's POV

Stan came running up, cheeks turning pink from him coughing, his hair blown about from the wind.

"Kyle …" He coughed. "Dude, goddamn. You walk _fast_."

I crossed my arms over my chest and waited expectantly, trying to act like I didn't care, but I could still feel my heart thumping inside my chest.

"What do you want, Stan?"

He must've known how angry I was. He stepped a bit closer, his gentle features visible in light given off by the moon. His eyes looked so sad.

"Kyle, Dude, I really need to talk to you."

"Stan, what do you want? I'm sorry I kissed you, alright? I know you don't feel the same way as I do about you, but let's just let it go, okay?"

Stan's nose scrunched up, almost as if he were disgusted by my words.

"Damnit, Kyle! It's not that. We've really got to talk because I really need to tell you something. Okay? Have I got your permission?"

I sighed and uncrossed my arms, letting them drop to my sides.

"Fine. What?"

Stan breathed a sigh of relief and took me gently by the elbow, staring me in the eyes.

"Kyle, I don't know how to candy-coat this so I'm just going to come right out and say it. Are you ready?"

No, I wasn't ready. I'd never be ready. But I nodded.

"Kyle, I …" He paused and looked down at his entwined hands. "I like you. More than a friend. I kissed you back today, and I don't know why I ran, but I'm so sorry."

I stared at him in awe and watched as his blushed and his head dropped.

"I'm really sorry, Kyle. I know I hurt you. Kenny told me and I am so sorry. I am so fucked up right now."

_**Kenny?**_

What was he doing? He was interfering in my life. Still, I was grateful. I closed my open mouth and shook my head a few times.

"Oh, Stan. You're not fucked up …"

"Yes I am! I hurt your feelings and I'm so screwed up, I don't even know what _I_ want, Kyle!"

He was crying now. His hands were at his sides, almost helpless. I reached up and wiped away his tears with my thumb. How many times had he cried this week?

"It's okay. You're just having a rough time. We all go through them. Thanks for telling me, though, Stan."

He nodded and gave off a small smile, left over tears lingering on his tired face. I wipe them away too and pulled him into my arms. I was in control this time.

He put his head on my shoulder and I felt him go slightly limp in my grasp. Christ, his hands were in my hair. It was enough to make me scream. He smelled so good. And what's this? I felt Stan's hand reach down and grip _me _through my jeans. I moaned into his shoulder and was suddenly worried about who might see us.

"Stan …" I croaked. "Not here. Not here … too public."

He ignored my protest and moved his head so he could kiss my neck. I could feel the crotch of my jeans begin to tighten. It all seemed so fast … ten minutes ago, we weren't even on speaking terms. Now, we were close to making out ... and in public, too.

I wasn't complaining though.

"God, Stan …" I moaned.

This should have felt wrong. I mean, I knew what was going to happen and we were only teenagers. Stupid, hormone-driven teens. But, the crazy thing was it didn't feel wrong. It felt incredibly good with his hands exploring my body, mine gently tugging at his messy black hair.

"Kyle … Kyle … I'm sorry." He whispered, his breath coming out in heavy pants.

I stopped his wandering hand from exploring my genitals further. He pulled back a bit, confused.

"Let's go to my house."

Stan shook his head.

"No … no. If your Mom catches us, you're in serious shit. We'll go to mine. My parents are heavy sleepers and Shelley is at a friends house tonight."

I smiled slightly. Taking his hand, we walked shamelessly down the streets and to the Marsh's residence.

-

I had forgotten how long it had been since I was alone with Stan at his house. Someone was always with us, usually Kenny or Cartman.

The minute we walked in, I was in awe. I had seen it a million times, but deep down, it always surprised me.

It was spotless. Not one thing was out of place. I knew Mrs. Marsh took pride in keeping her family's home so clean.

Stan took my shoes, placing them carefully in the hall closet, making sure to close the door quietly.

"Don't want to take the risk of waking anyone up." He winked at me.

I could've jumped on him right there.

He took my hand gently and pulled me up the stairs in that same quiet manner. The stairs creaked under our weight, but it was nothing. Certainly not enough to wake Stan's parents.

Once in his room, Stan closed the door, locking it behind his back. He looked at me, leaning against the door, shy eyes covered by his bangs. I honestly couldn't handle waiting for this anymore. I needed it _so_ badly.

I backed him against the door, my hands placed on his waist. I moved in and pressed my lips to his; particularly happy to feel his hands cup me under my ass. I was taking it as a sign that he wanted this as badly as I did.

"Kyle. To …the bed …" He sighed, managing a finger to point at his need.

I nodded, still kissing him and we tumbled rather clumsily to his bed. I ended up on the bottom, one leg between his and the other draping over the edge. He tugged at the lining of my shirt, pausing from our lip-lock to pull it off and toss it away. I did the exact same to him, grinning a bit as his shirt got caught around his neck.

We stayed like that for a few minutes, partially naked, building up the excitement and anticipation. Part of me was nervous, but there was a feeling inside of me that I couldn't ignore. I wanted Stan in the worst way. It scared me. It all seemed like a dream that could break at any minute. That would _kill _me.

He was in no hurry. It was a good fifteen minutes of straight making out before I felt his hands unzip my jeans. I almost blushed as his hand brushed my erection, but realized stupidly that he had one, too. He groaned when my own hand butterflied across it to remove his pants.

"Oh, Kyle." He whimpered.

I threw his pants to the ground, loathing them for covering all that I had been missing out on for so long. He disposed of mine soon, with much more trouble considering I was on the bottom. His fingers were gentle and efficient, touching my skin carefully, as if I would break at any minute.

Once most of the clothes were gone, our underwear was the only thing holding us apart. Our legs still laced together, his breathing heavy and slow, my heart pounding and anxious, he looked at me. It wasn't just any look. He looked into my _soul._ His eyes caring and soft, they apologized.

"Stan, are you sure about this? I mean … I don't want us to do anything we'll regret …"

He shushed me up with a kiss, his tongue lingering upon mine for a few seconds.

"I'm sure. You have no idea how long I've wanted this. Kyle, I think I may very well be in love with you."

And under his parent's roof, in the middle of the night, we made love for the first time.


	7. Soft Words

Sorry it's taken me so long to post a new chapter. School is keeping me extremely busy. I hate my Bio teacher. She's crazy and scary. Read and review, pleaseeeee. This chapter will be mostly fluff with the newest problem. Bahaha! I apologize once again. It's been too long. I'll try to update sooner!

Soft Words

Kyle's POV

Stan and I lay together in the darkness, our hands entwined. My head was resting on his naked shoulder. With his free hand he was slowly trailing his fingers through my hair, breathing softly. I kept my eyes closed and sighed in content. I felt in complete bliss to feel the rise and fall of his chest.

"Stan?"

"Mmm?"

He was half asleep and it made me smile.

I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling. It was still dark outside and I wondered what time it was. I had to get home soon, but I didn't want to leave Stan's embrace. I wanted to tell him how much I loved him. I want to tell him how special he was to me and how he made me feel. I wanted to share my butterflies with him.

"Uh, nothing. Never mind."

This was the time that people always ruined by saying something really gay. I wasn't going to do that. Not after I had the most amazing night.

I could feel him smile. He was awake again. He shifted slightly and I suddenly wondered if his parents had heard anything. We had tried being quiet, but it was so hard. I ended up stifling half of my moans in his pillow. I could still feel him, moving so gracefully, covering my perspired face in soft kisses. It was as if he had done it a million times, but I knew he was a virgin … like me. He was just so confident in everything he did. I didn't even think about his flu bug. I didn't care if I got it. I was so happy …

"Kyle, it's getting late … early … whatever you want to call it. You had better get back home so your Mom doesn't freak." He whispered, sliding a careful hand down the front of my boxers.

I moaned but nodded.

"Yeah. I suppose I should. God, Stan. Look what you're doing to me." I chuckled quietly.

He nuzzled my ear and I felt his hand slide down farther.

"I know. I'm in love with you."

My heart skipped and I couldn't help but smile.

"Stan …" I didn't know what to say. It seemed pointless to express my love for him again. I had moaned it to him enough during our love session.

He turned his head enough so he could kiss me, his hand pulling out of my underwear at the same time. I flipped over so I could meet him partway. His features were barely visible in dim light, but I could see him perfectly in my mind. His concerned blue eyes, black hair covering them partly.

He pulled away gently. His eyes searched my face. He reached a hand up a brushed my hair out of my eyes. I held him close, burying my face into his neck.

"Come on. I'll walk you home." I heard his voice vibrate from under my grasp.

He got up and stretched his arms tall above his head, yawning. I sat up, propping my head up on one hand.

"Nice ass."

Stan stopped mid-yawn and looked down. He broke into a grin and began to search for his boxers. I slowly slid out of the bed too and sat on the edge. I grabbed my pants and began pulling them on.

Stan was staring at me.

"What?" I asked, a little self-conscious.

He shook his head and smiled. He was in the midst of pulling on his pants that had been abandoned during our little rendezvous.

"You're really cute. Did you ever notice that you have dimples?"

I laughed, slightly flattered, and embarrassed that he noticed little things about me.

"I never really paid much attention to them …"

He slid his jacket on and ran a hand through his messy hair. I was still staring at him. I was so happy with him, but how could this ever work? What if people didn't accept us? It'd kill me. I needed to be with Stan. He understood me. Ever since we were children, we always understood each other. He was my best friend …

Stan handed me my jacket, startling me out of my thoughts. I looked a little surprised, but pulled it on and he stuck his hand out for me to take. Stan had beautiful hands. His fingers were long and dramatically structured. I breathed out and wrapped my hand around his. He hoisted me up and didn't let go. Together, we quietly left his room, hand in hand.

-

It was chillier than before and I shivered. Stan held me closer. The sun was rising and the red sky was streaked with blue, gray, pink, and orange.

"Red sky in morning, Sailor takes warning." Stan muttered.

"Huh?"

He turned to look at me. His profile was tinted pink from the sky.

"You've never heard that?"

I shook my head.

He cleared his throat and his grip tightened ever so slightly.

"My dad told me that Sailors used to look at the sky to predict weather. If it were red at night, they'd say, 'Red sky at night, Sailor's delight'. And if it was red in morning …"

"'Red sky in morning, Sailor takes warning."

Cutting him off, I grinned and nudged him.

"Stan, you're such a nerd."

He laughed but didn't deny it. I looked down at our connected hands. I'm so happy. **_We're_** so happy.

Stan's sleeve was rolled up slightly and it was the first time I had noticed tiny red slashes all over his left wrist. Some were faded and pink, but I could overlook the ones that were still bright red and healing. My heart was beating so hard, I was sure he could hear it.

I stopped walking and let go of his hand. Stan was forced to stop too. He looked puzzled.

"What's the matter, Dude?"

I couldn't speak. What … why? When had Stan started cutting himself? Why didn't I notice that something was seriously wrong? I almost kicked myself for being so stupid.

"Oh my god, Stan …"

He looked frightened.

"Kyle, what's wrong? You're scaring me. Tell me, please."

He had to have known … 

"You're wrist … when … what were you …? Just, why?"

He looked so ashamed, I could've cried. His hands hung helplessly by his side, but he had rolled down his sleeve.

"Kyle, it's alright. I'm okay. There's just been so much going on … I needed something to release my tension on. Don't hate me. I couldn't tell you. I was afraid you wouldn't understand. I- I'm so sorry …"

He was close to tears and I was still staring at him in shock.

"Oh, Stan. It's okay. I don't hate you. I just wish you would've told me … I could've helped."

He sighed and took my hand once again. His grip felt cold and I suddenly felt guilty … it really wasn't any of my business and I hadn't meant for Stan to feel bad.

"There's no sense in worrying about it now. But, Kyle?"

I looked at him wearily.

"Can you please keep quiet about this? Nobody knows and my parents will make a huge deal out of it if they find out. I'm sure they'd send me to a psychiatrist."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Of course they'd make a big deal out of it! Who wouldn't? Stan was being incredibly stupid to me. I couldn't figure it out. He was insane. Maybe he did need to go to a psychiatrist. Instead, I nodded.

"Sure, Stan. I won't tell anybody. Just promise me you'll stop doing it … please."

He didn't say a word and it made me uneasy, but I knew that he'd feel guilty if he did it again. Perhaps, he'd be safe for now. I wrapped an arm around his waist and we continued walking in eerie silence.

I hated uncomfortable silences like that. It seems like you're still having a conversation, but the whole world's listening to it.

I wasn't too worried about my Mother finding out. It couldn't have been later than 5am and she wouldn't be up for another two hours. I was happy it was Friday. What a fucked up week this had been. So much had happened. I wasn't going to be able to concentrate very well on schoolwork. I was so scared about Stan, though. This just wasn't like him.

We finally stopped in front of my house and he walked me up to my doorstep. The sun was almost completely up now and somewhere off in a distance, I could hear birds singing. It was just like in the movies with the perfect couple, ending off a date with a kiss.

Stan took both my hands in his and turned me to face him completely. He looked sad, but I gently pulled his wrist up to my face and rolled up the sleeve. I brushed my lips against the scars and he winced. I rolled down his sleeve and held it carefully between my hands.

"It's our secret, Stan."

He leaned forward and we shared a long kiss. I wanted to freeze that moment so I could look back on it forever.

He started on down the steps, our hands still connected. We slowly slid them apart and he smiled and blew me a kiss. I pretended to catch it and watched as he walked on back down the street.

I eventually turned and went inside, full of happiness and some worried thoughts.

_It'll be okay._


	8. Fallen from Grace

Hello people! I am SO sorry for the long wait. I've been hella busy. Anyways, please don't abandon me and I'll try and update faster

Fallen from Grace

Kyle's POV

The next few days were quiet and peaceful. I couldn't remember a time where things had been so tame. I didn't mind, though.

As I had thought, it was hard to be with Stan and keep quiet about it at the same time. I wanted to scream and dance and cry. I was _so _happy. Nobody could know yet, though. Stan was nervous about people finding out. Me, I couldn't have cared less. If it were up to me, our relationship would be broadcasted on the news.

It was also hard finding the right time and place to show little affectionate signs that couples normally do. Holding hands, kisses, sweet words …

Stan and I met as often as we could in the bathrooms for a little "quality time" together. And after school, we made sure to miss the bus and cut through Stark's Pond to get home. It was relatively empty in the early evening and a great advantage to us. Even if all we did was hold hands, I couldn't have been happier.

Stan eventually broke up with Wendy, but, as gently as possible. No matter how nice he was about it, Wendy came in one morning, eyes swollen and red and her usually shining hair matted and tangled. Her friends trailed after her, handing her tissues, nodding compassionately, and hugging her in between her explanation. I could've sworn that they all hissed when Stan and I walked by.

I felt his fall slightly in his step and I gave his hand a quick, gentle squeeze.

"They know nothing." I whispered.

He turned and smiled at me. He was putting on a brave face, but I could see fear sketched in his eyes. Fear of what, though? Wendy? Our relationship? Cartman's taunting?

Who cares?

I just wanted him to see that we could be happy. Even if the world didn't approve. We could be so happy.

It was after school that day when that Wendy incident occurred. Stan and I were walking along, fingers laced together, talking about school and nothing in particular. I was shocked at how normal this could feel.

The sun was peaking through the tips of the trees lining Stark's Pond. Stan was laughing as he told me about something that had happened earlier. I wasn't paying a whole lot of attention. Something was on my mind. In the back of my mind, rather. It was bothering me and it gave me a nervous feeling.

Stan must've noticed my attempted interest. He nudged me a bit with his shoulder and I looked up, surprised.

"You okay, Kyle?" Concern was flooding his eyes.

I forced a smile and nodded a little too encouragingly.

"I'm fine, Dude. Just a little tired."

Stan's forehead creased and he raised an eyebrow. "Don't bullshit me, Kyle. I've seen you when you're tired. You're cranky as hell when you're tired."

I sighed, mentally preparing my defense when a familiar shrill voice rose up from the forest. Stan dropped my hand and leaped back. I looked at him a little hurt and he shrugged with a look of guilt present on his handsome face.

"Hey, fags."

I groaned and gave Cartman the finger as he appeared from behind a wall of trees, too bothered to do anything more. Kenny was with him and they both had ice-skates slung over their shoulders.

Stan was looking at the ground, blushing with his hands in his pockets. I cleared my throat.

"What are you guys doing here?"

Cartman sneered at me, swinging his skates around so he was flashing them in front of my face.

"What's it look like, Jew?"

Kenny chuckled from under his hood at my stupidity.

Cartman's sneer was replaced with that look of innocence he had perfected over the years. Apparently, he had gotten over his flu. He was being more of an asshole than usual.

"I believe a better question is, what are YOU doing here, Kyle? Stan?"

I glared at him and Stan spoke up for the first time.

"We're walking home, Fatass! What does it look like we're doing?" He snapped. He swung his backpack irritably from the shoulder it was resting on to the other.

Cartman clicked his tongue and grinned. He was really scraping along my nerves.

"Actually, Stanley, it looks like you two are out being faggy little gaywads in private."

Stan punched him in the arm and Cartman's whine echoed through the trees.

"Stupid fags. C'mon, Kenny! Jesus Christ." Cartman sauntered off to the pond and Kenny hung back for a minute. He grinned at us.

"So, Stan. You finally dumped Wendy, huh?"

Stan grunted something incoherently under his breath.

Kenny laughed.

"The whole school's talkin' about how "the perfect couple" broke up. It's actually funny. You ought to hear the rumors flying around. Whoo boy!"

Kenny could be the greatest comfort ever one second and the next, he was fueling the fire and didn't even know it. He knew that Stan and I were together. He was the only one who knew. What the hell was he doing?

I butted in, "Kenny, Stan's upset about it. Now isn't the best time."

Kenny nodded understandingly and offered his charismatic smile as an apology.

"Alright. Sorry, Stan. So, I guess I'll see you guys tomorrow."

I waved and Stan didn't even look up.

Kenny disappeared after Cartman, whistling a nameless tune as he went.

Once they were far enough away that their voices were faint, I took Stan's hand again, trying to overlook the limpness of his grasp.

"Stan, it's okay. You don't need to be so scared of this."

I heard him sigh. His fingers tightened around mine slightly.

"It's not … that. I'm not sure what's wrong with me, Dude. I like you, Kyle. I really do. But this all feels so wrong."

My heart dropped a bit and he noticed by change in facial expressions. He wrapped me in a hug and I melted.

"But I'm determined to make it work." He whispered in my ear. "No matter what. Screw Wendy."

I tried to believe him, but something was telling me that something was horribly wrong. Something could always go horribly wrong. Especially when you're happy.

We continued our walk home in silence. The snow crunched under our feet and I could see the sun setting behind the trees. I was lost in my thoughts again.

Stan hadn't stopped cutting. He said he had but I could see fresh scars slashed through his wrist.

In a way, I felt hurt. He had promised me he wouldn't. I didn't know why he didn't just come and talk to me about how he was feeling. It was killing me on the inside. I could feel his pain with each new cut I saw shaped into his skin each day.

Stan turned to me with sad eyes. He seemed to feel my grief and it was taking its toll on him.

"Kyle?"

I looked at him wearily. He looked down and ran his hand uncomfortably up his left wrist.

"I know I told you that … I'd stop … but I can't. I … I just can't. I tried. I really did. I'm so sorry, Kyle."

Tears were welling up in his eyes and he looked so vulnerable. He shivered as a cold wind wrapped around the forest, rushing throughout the trees. He stared at me helplessly, almost asking what his next move should be. And as much as I wanted to, I couldn't be mad at him for it. It really wasn't his fault … entirely.

I mean it was normal for teenagers to be depressed, wasn't it? And he had every reason to be. What, with his Grandma dying, his messy breakup with Wendy, me and him finally hooking up … depression seemed to be the bonus with all this other shit.

I sighed and grabbed hold of his hand again. We continued walking home, still ignoring and refusing to think that this could all so easily turn wrong.

… But I wanted him so bad, I was willing to fight the rest of the world.


End file.
